


into you

by Blepbean



Category: Red White & Royal Blue - Casey McQuiston
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Henry is writing his little gay book and Alex is just being a supportive bf, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-05
Updated: 2020-12-05
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:21:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,281
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27891454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blepbean/pseuds/Blepbean
Summary: Henry’s writing his novel, and he doesn’t even know if he can even publish it. Throughout the week Alex supports and helps him finish his novel.“So perhaps we shouldn’t play around any longer. Let’s put our fake promises down and tell each other secrets. I’ll go first: I love you, I love you, I love you. I’ll write it in for a thousand more in our secret letters. I’ll steal the words of poets and take their place, so when you see the three words, you’ll know that it’ll be written for you. It might be too late for us, love. Perhaps, we met at the wrong time, but we’re perfect moulds of each other. Perhaps, fates themselves are laughing at us, that this was all written for us to meet the moment we drew our first breath. Please come back to me, my love.LoveApollo.”
Relationships: Alex Claremont-Diaz/Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor
Comments: 12
Kudos: 78





	into you

**Author's Note:**

> Ahhhhhh um my laptop kinda broke so I’m writing some fluffy drabbles on my phone.
> 
> Kudos, comments and feedback is appreciated

_ “I’ve seen you. The intricacies of your body. Miles and miles of skin that I’ve kissed. Places where you hide away from the public eye. I’ve seen you, the whole part of you , things that your foolish mind wants to cast away, burn into nothing but ashes. But I think; I want to love you even more now.” _

Alex thinks he’s never gonna get over him. How they wake up in a tangled mess of limbs in their bedroom, early morning light blinding their eyes. It takes about five minutes to pull apart, he gets a window of when he can see  _ him,  _ vulnerable and soft, Alex is the only one who can see Henry like this. Him, this man with messy blonde hair that goes over his forehead, his eye lashes catching the light. But the best part is how his eyes are sort of lazy in the morning, corners of his eyes crinkling and eyelids heavy. When it opens, it’s a burst of blue eyes amidst the soft cremes and mochas of their apartment.

“Hey,” Alex whispers. 

“Hi,” Henry says back.

Alex thinks, that he’s so full of love that he’s going to die. They giggle stupidly and make their way into the kitchen, all loud and almost tumbling over stuff, their kitchen is painted with accents of soft browns, but mostly greens, ferns and succulents take over the benches and the space. Some cookbooks and random poetry books somehow make their way on the benches. Alex tells Henry to go sit so he doesn’t burn the pancakes. Henry flips him the bird and stands behind him.

“I’m not that  _ terrible _ ,” Henry scoffs, he wraps his arms around Alex’s neck and rests his head on top of Alex’s.

“Hon, you almost burned down the apartment when you tried to cook.”

“That was because of the—“

“—terrible American measurement, sure Bub,” Alex hums. He flips the pancake perfectly, Henry presses soft kisses on his neck. 

  
  
  
  
  


_ “But I also think; maybe we can be something else. I think; we can be more than just chaste kisses and pleasures, where we can pretend we’re just here for the sex, when we only really find comfort in the warmth of our bodies and accidental confessions that dies in the might.” _

Henry comes home tired and stressed, working to get some papers and plans set up to get LGBT youth off the street, it’s  _ almost  _ impossible to pull off. But that’s Henry, always jumping off and running without thinking, he thinks Alex is rubbing off on him. 

Their apartment has been posted in so many magazines, with  _ Time  _ magazine claiming that the ‘cottagecore aesthetic mixed in with dark academia is an inspiration call me by your name fans’. Henry almost choked on his tea and ended up writing a three-thousand word essay on the problematic themes of the movie, he’s still waiting for a response back.

It’s why Alex loves him so much.

He shucks off his shoes and feels the maroon antique rug against his socks, the scent of earthy tones and earl grey tea helps him make his way to their bedroom, the door slightly ajar. He almost falls on the ground when he steps into their bedroom. It’s late into the night. Alex has an early morning meeting tomorrow.

So why is he sitting up on their bed, with the lamp on? He looks soft, with reading glasses on with one of the books that he’s pulled off the bookcase on his lap. He’s actually reading, all concentrated eyebrows while he bites his thumb.

“Sorry,” Henry steadies himself on the wall, it feels like all his energy is leaving him.

Alex puts his book down and gets off the bed, he puts his reading glasses on the bedside table and presses a chaste kiss on Henry’s forehead, he helps him get his suit off, all soft and gentle touches, like he’s treating brittle pottery. Henry lets him do this, fix him up as he’s guided to the closet. He lets the love of his life change him into sweatpants and a loose shirt.

“You’re too good to me,” Henry hums, he lets himself get guided back to bed.

“I don’t think so,” Alex pulls the blankets over them. Henry feels his limbs relax just a little bit, his eyes trailing Alex’s skin, washed in the warm light. He looks at his face, creeping shadows sculpting his jawline, his dimples, the crook of his nose, the curve of his Cupid’s bow.

He could write a spin on a thousand poems about his man, however it would  _ never _ be enough.

“I’m sorry I missed dinner,” Henry puts his head into Alex’s chest, he feels an arm cradle him, “you planned it out and everything, you even got Bea to teach you how to make cake,” his voice is muffled against Alex’s chest, it gets a silly, chesty laugh from Alex.

“I just ended up buying the cake from Cheesecake Factory, sorry.”

“I should be sorry.”

“No Henry.”

“I missed our dinner.”

“ _ Baby _ ,” Alex whispers into Henry’s ear, his voice is like honey, soft and smooth but bringing so much warmth inside him, “it’s fine, we can make it up sometime.”

“Lunch date?”

“Lunch date,” Alex repeats. When they fall asleep into a tangle of limbs and pressed warmth, Henry thinks, that he’s the luckiest man to ever walk the earth.

  
  
  
  
  


_ “So perhaps we shouldn’t play around any longer. Let’s put our fake promises down and tell each other secrets. I’ll go first: I love you, I love you, I love you. I’ll write it in for a thousand more in our secret letters. I’ll steal the words of poets and take their place, so when you see the three words, you’ll know that it’ll be written for you. It might be too late for us, love. Perhaps, we met at the wrong time, but we’re perfect moulds of each other. Perhaps, fates themselves are laughing at us, that this was all written for us to meet the moment we drew our first breath. Please come back to me, my love. _

_ Love _

_ Apollo.” _

Henry stretches his fingers, it’s late afternoon and he’s finished his book. After all the late night writing and quick researches of queer history, he’s managed to finish his book. He can deal with the legal stuff of where or not he can  _ even  _ publish this later. 

One of his tabs is open for his Twitter, he’s recently posted the letter that he wrote in his novel. Two men who yearn for each other’s touch. It’s gotten over a million likes, and famous authors praised his writing. Some think that he didn’t write them, he usually just rolls his eyes. He leans back on his chair and draws a heavy breath.

He did it.

His cursor goes over to the buzzfeed article titled:  _ Prince Henry, the iconic gay poet is releasing a novel (and we’ve cried over his snippets) _ . He letsa shaky laug out, he did it. He finished what he’s been writing, he’s not hiding it in the abyss, in the locked rooms in his mind. He let it out into the world.

Behind him the bedroom door opens and Alex comes running to him to pull him from his chair and gives him a bone crushing hug, muttering  _ I love you’s  _ in the secrecy of their bedroom. Warmth floods in his chest, and it doesn’t matter that the windows are open and that paparazzi is probably taking photos of them. It doesn’t matter.

He’s finished his novel.

“You did it,” Alex shakily says, they pull apart and Henry flashes his soft, unguarded smile.

“Yeah,” Henry mumbles, “I did it.”


End file.
